Four Mojito Mixer
by Abarero
Summary: But Cuba's laid-back view was a bit shaken at the moment, considering he'd just gotten an invitation from Seychelles, France's girlfriend, to come spend a weekend at her place with France and Canada. Cuba/Canada/France/Seychelles


**Notes:** Written _last year_ as part of **Hetalia Sunshine** and I just realized I never shared it on ff-net. SO here it is. I know it's a unique premise, but I hope people enjoy it nonetheless!

* * *

**Four Mojito Mixer**

It was looking to be another calm, relaxing weekend for Cuba. The weather was warm, with just enough of a breeze to keep things comfortable, and he was sipping his second mojito of the day. With a stretch, he pulled himself up out of his chair and padded over to his computer. Canada had called earlier, leaving part of a message before spacing out and forgetting the rest. Even now, the timid yet somewhat excited voice replayed it perfectly in his mind.

_Cuba? Oh. I guess you're busy at the moment, eh? Well I was calling to..._ There was a long pause then. _Eh? Oh I was leaving a message! Right! Um. I guess you'll get the email later then. I'll meet you at the airport tonight._

He'd been checking his computer periodically since then for the email, but there was still no message from Canada. He glanced down the list of new messages and one in particular caught his eye.

Cuba clicked it, his eyes skimming the email quickly before he doubled back and began to read it over once more. _This explains a lot._ Oh the French and their "open-relationships."

He blushed, downing the rest of his mojito, and quickly sent a reply before he could regret it. While Cuba would never admit it aloud, there were definitely times he felt so shy and innocent compared to his boyfriend. Canada was indeed shy, quite prone to blushing and embarrassing incidents himself. But the fact of the matter was Canada was also dating France and France tended to have a rather perverse influence on people.

Cuba was fine with Canada and France's relationship, even though it overlapped theirs. He respected that they had quite the history together and was sometimes even surprised Canada would be interested in him compared to the skilled and amorous Frenchman. But most of all, Cuba was just happy that Canada was happy. That's all that mattered in the long run.

But this laid-back view was a bit shaken at the moment, considering he'd just gotten an invitation from Seychelles, France's _girlfriend_, to come spend a weekend at her place with France and Canada. That made things just a little..._weird_.

Then Cuba reminded himself of their Frenchness and wondered why he was surprised at all.

Deciding to make the best of it, he packed his favorite sandals, enough cigars to last the weekend and ingredients for mojitos. He might not be the host, but he felt he should have something to offer. And one could never go wrong with a good drink.

Loading his luggage into his car, he started his drive away from his Old Havana home, past the hustle and bustle of the town on a Friday night, and towards the airport. Perhaps it was time for him to try a little something new after all.

* * *

Canada met him at the airport for their flight out wearing a woven seashell choker that Cuba had given him to distinguish him from his brother. Catching sight of the choker, Cuba called out.

"Canada, over here!"

The North American stumbled over his luggage at someone calling his name, but he caught himself. He gave Cuba a sheepish smile as he joined him, Cuba shyly smiling back.

"Hey."

"Um. Hello."

They both glanced around nervously, and when they were certain they weren't being watched, they leaned in for a timid peck on the lips that left them both tinged pink.

"I'm glad you could come."

Cuba frowned at his tone. "Didja think I wouldn't?"

"Um, a-are you sure this isn't too strange for you, eh?" Canada asked as he started walking towards their terminal. Cuba walked alongside him, carrying both of their small pieces of luggage with ease.

So Canada was worried about his feelings about this. Okay. That made sense. Cuba knew Canada had spent weekends with France and Seychelles before, but he'd not dared to ask then for details. Now he was almost wishing he had. Who knows what those three had done after a long night frolicking on the beaches? Gulping, he put on a brave smile.

"It's something you enjoy, right?"

Canada fidgeted. "Well, yes, but..."

Cuba shifted the luggage to free up a hand. He reached out and laced his fingers with Canada's. "Then my answer is still yes."

* * *

It was the next day when they arrived, the two having slept on the lengthy plane trip there overnight. Cuba was still a bit embarrassed by the fact an airline steward had been the one to wake them up when they had their layover before switching planes; especially since they'd been cuddled up together in the cramped airline seats. But no level of embarrassment prepared him for his nerves on reaching the destination. Oh what he wouldn't give for a couple of strong mojitos right about now.

The island paradise they arrived in was utterly beautiful. The water and the sky were both bright blue, the vivid green of the tropical landscape and the warm beige of the beaches visible as their plane descended. Gathering up their luggage, Canada led them off the plane and into the airport to find their hosts.

They were met in Seychelles first by the country herself, her tan skin and dark hair accentuated by her sleeveless blue sundress. She smiled on seeing them, rushing forward to give Canada a hug and a peck on the cheek.

"You never told me Cuba was such a good-looking guy, Canada," she teased, turning the blonde bright red. "Then again," she flipped her pigtails over her bare shoulders and smiled at Cuba, "we tropical nations are quite the lookers, am I right?"

Cuba just blushed and cracked a small smile. Seychelles laughed, pecking a kiss on his cheek as well.

"No need to be shy. Welcome to my home."

"Thanks."

"Seychelles, where's..." Canada's question was cut short as an arm wrapped around his shoulders. "...France!"

"You called, mon chéri?" France said, letting his hand wander down to Canada's waist before turning to who he held under his left arm. "Cuba, mon ami, a _pleasure_ to see you as well."

Cuba shifted awkwardly in France's grip and steeled his nerve. If Canada could do- well, whatever it was they had planned- then Cuba was determined to do it too.

"Uh. Hello. So..." Cuba cleared his throat as all eyes turned to him. "What's planned for today?"

Seychelles smiled. "We thought we'd show you around the islands, if that's all right. You did get enough sleep overnight on the plane, I assume?"

"Yeah. That sounds-" _thankfully normal_ -"really great."

_Okay, so maybe this ain't gonna be too weird after all_, Cuba mused to himself as he watched Seychelles pick up his bag and place it on a cart beside her. That's when he noticed her pleasant smile shift into a scowl. And before he could ask her what was wrong, he _felt_ exactly why she was glaring.

"France, they just got here! Keep your hands to yourself!" She berated him.

The European removed his wandering hands from where they'd been caressing their guest's outer thighs and held his hands up in mock innocence.

"Pardon moi. I was just making them feel welcome."

Seychelles wasn't having any of the innocent act and she yanked France out from between the couple. "You..." she huffed. "You bastard!"

"Ah, do not get so jealous my little tropical flower. I won't let you go unloved." He shamelessly reached out and cupped her breasts, caressing them in tandem with his words. "I just have...so much love...to share, Seychelles. So...much..."

A loud slap cut him off and he rubbed at his stinging cheek.

"Ah! I'm so sorry, France! It's just, I've told you again and again not to do that..."

"In public," he finished for her. She leveled him a glare.

"We _are_ in public."

"Ah yes. You see, I was just so overcome with amour that I forgot. Please forgive me, ma chérie."

"Ah no, I'm sorry. Your face is still red- I shouldn't have..." She tenderly touched his cheek and he captured her hand there.

"Perhaps a touch of your love would but heal the pain that remains, no?"

Seychelles sighed, pecking a kiss to the reddened mark her hand had left before leaning in for a proper kiss. It seemed all was going to be calm again when France's hand grabbed onto Seychelles's posterior and the cycle of bickering and apologizing began again.

Cuba glanced to Canada beside him, who was shaking his head at the whole ordeal.

"They always like that?" He asked.

Canada gave him a timid smile. "They're a bit...lively, eh."

"Ah." Cuba noticed that their bickering had drawn the attention of others and he scooted back against the nearby wall beside Canada.

"Are you sure you're okay with this, Cuba? If you want to go home, we can-"

Cuba cut him off with a finger to his lips. "I said yes and I ain't taking that back. This is a part of your life and if it makes ya happy then I wanna be a part of that too, got that?"

Canada nodded, his cheeks pink and his long curl of hair bobbing up and down as he moved. "You're great, you know that eh? A really great boyfriend."

Both of them turned bright red as he said this, Cuba reddening a bit more as he replied. "So are you, Canada. So let's just make the best of this weekend, all right?"

"Sure."

When Seychelles and France rejoined them a few moments later, a hickey on her neck and another red slap-mark on his cheek, Cuba just shook his head along with Canada.

_Okay, so this weekend is gonna be a bit weird. I can handle that._

"So, who is up for my _rousing_ tour of all the best places to have sex on these islands?" France asked with a wink.

"France!" Seychelles and Canada reprimanded, both blushing as if they knew some of those places quite well.

Cuba just sighed. _I can handle this...I think_.

* * *

Crystal blue waters and colorful fish surrounded the lush green island on which they were going to spend the night; the nation herself having made arrangements with one of the most elite resorts her country had to offer for the four of them. Cuba tried to muster up some jealousy, being quite proud of the beach resorts of his own home; but even he had to admit this place was far above and beyond anything he had to offer. In fact, to say that Saint Anne Island was gorgeous would have been an understatement; the island was nothing short of paradise.

On the drive to the resort, Canada spaced out watching the trees go by and finally fell asleep; his face pressed up against the window and his glasses askew.

Almost simultaneously, France, Cuba and Seychelles asked, "Does he always do that around you too?"

They repressed laughter, not wanting to wake him. France reached over to pull Canada more comfortably against his side while Cuba smoothed down his hair, the two of them sharing a slight smile over the top of Canada's head. Seychelles delicately took off Canada's tilted glasses and tucked them into the front pocket of France's dress shirt. He wasn't going to be uncomfortable on their watch.

To pass the rest of the drive, France proudly told the group at large how the first settlement of French colonists had come here; talking at length about Seychelles' splendor and allure in a way that turned the country herself a bit pink in the cheeks.

"And as we can all see, Seychelles herself is just as beautiful and charming."

She playfully shoved him in the arm, still flushed. "You flatterer."

Cuba cleared his throat, and meeting her eyes, he said. "He ain't making that up, yah know? On both accounts, that is."

If possible, Seychelles blushed more; biting her lip and glancing up at Cuba through her long lashes. "T-Thanks. You're not bad yourself."

"Aha, should I give you two a few hours to _get to know one another_ once we reach our rooms?" France quipped.

Cuba blanched and Seychelles punched France in the arm. "Is everything about sex with you?"

France smirked. "Well…"

"Uh…guys?" A very quiet voice cut through the conversation, something none of them would have probably heard if they weren't accustomed to it. Silently, they all glanced to the now-awake Canada. "Oh. You heard me." He smiled at that, a bit surprised. "Well, uh...I think we're here now, eh."

He pointed out the front window, and sure enough, the car came to a stop at the front of the sprawling resort complex. The driver got out and started unloading their luggage from the back as the four countries piled out of the car.

Their private valet service escorted them to their villa, the Royal Villa, which was on a private outcrop of the resort's land. Cuba stood in the main entryway just taking it all in when Seychelles tapped him on the shoulder.

"We've got three rooms, so just pick one. France..." She sighed, but didn't actually seem all that irritated. "France said we can decide later who doubles up in a room."

Cuba blinked, then it sank in. "Ah. Oh."

Seychelles offered him a smile. "Is that all right or did you and Canada have plans?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Cuba chuckled nervously. "I'm really not used to this whole...open relationship thing so I guess it's up to him."

At that, Seychelles came over and looped her arm through his. "Well, how about this. If they decide to pair off tonight, I can keep you company?"

"Wh-what?"

Sticking out her tongue, Seychelles pulled away and planted her hands on her hips. "Silly, I don't mean like _that_. Jeez, not everyone is a pervert like France. Though if you want me to put ribbons in your pretty hair..."

Cuba cracked a smile at that and nodded. "All right then, island nation slumber party in my room tonight."

Seychelles grinned. "Great!"

The four of them changed into their swimsuits, all planning to take advantage of the nearby coral reefs and marine life to do some snorkeling. As they gathered at the front of their villa and loaded a few things into the golf cart to drive themselves to the beach, Canada walked over to Cuba.

"Cuba, I uh... well, you know how I am with snorkeling, right eh?"

He repressed a smirk, mental images of Canada floundering about with the snorkel and goggles all too fresh in his mind from their attempts at his home to do it. Then again he faired about equally well when Canada invited him up north for skiing, so it all evened out in the long run.

"I ain't gonna make ya if you don't want to, Canada."

Canada nervously poked his fingers together, shyly looking up at Cuba. "So uh...France and I were thinking about taking out a boat, eh. If that's all right with you. I mean, I don't want to..."

Cuba leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Canada's forehead. "You can spend today with France, you haven't seen him in awhile right?"

"Well yes, but..."

"And uh..." Cuba cleared his throat, blushing. "Tonight too if you want. Seychelles said she'd keep me company if you two wanted to uh..."

Canada blinked, his face lighting up in a timid smile. "Eh? That's really okay with you?"

Reaching down, Cuba cupped Canada's cheek and leaned his forehead down to rest against his. "Yeah. I'll get the hang of this French-relationship thing down sooner or later, but right now you just enjoy yourself. We can do something tomorrow, okay?"

Canada threw his arms around Cuba's neck and kissed him quite soundly before pulling back and blushing profusely. "Thanks. We'll definitely do something tomorrow then, okay? It's a promise."

Cuba held out his pinky and linked it with Canada's. "A promise."

* * *

They had taken out a glass bottom kayak, so that way they could at least see the rainbow of fish and underwater world even if they weren't actually getting wet. France had chuckled at Canada's usual beach attire- long red swim trunks, a smudge of sunscreen on his nose and inflatable floaties on his upper arms in case he did end up in the water. For a nation so adapt at anything involving ice it was almost comical how much he struggled with the unfrozen variant.

"Ah, mon chéri you won't need those." France said, tugging the floaties off Canada's arms. "I assure you that you will be safe and sound in my care."

Canada flushed, leaning into France's touch. "Okay, eh."

France wadded the kayak out from the shore just enough and helped Canada in first. Once he was certain that neither of them would tip it over, he got in himself and pulled Canada back into his lap.

"There now, safe and sound, oui?"

Gulping, Canada glanced back at the small scrap of fabric that France had deemed worthy of being called a swimsuit. Then again, considering how often the Frenchman didn't wear_ anything_, Canada supposed this was at least an improvement.

"Y-Yeah. But how am I supposed to…"

Two arms wrapped around him and took up the oar, "Allow me, my little snowflake."

Canada wrinkled up his nose at that. "France..."

He chuckled, his chest rumbling against Canada's bare back. "Pardon moi a little joke, I could not help myself." Dipping his head down, he whispered huskily into Canada's ear. "Should I call you something else then, Can-a-da?"

Turning around to splutter out some sort of reply, Canada felt France's lips capture his own. He sighed, half in exasperation and half in contentment. He should have seen that coming a mile away. Slipping his eyes closed, he felt the boat come to a halt and knew that rowing was definitely not one of France's priorities at that moment. Not that he minded really.

Nearby, Cuba and Seychelles snorkeled over the reef with ease. They were both pros at this, easily diving under and having no trouble expelling the water from their snorkel when they surfaced again.

Cuba had to admit Seychelles looked quite natural amidst the teal blue of the water and the multicolored fish that inhabited it. With her white bikini and her pigtailed hair trailing behind her, she winked over her shoulder before swimming onward quickly.

_What is she...oh, I see._

Knowing a challenge when he saw one, Cuba hastily followed; trying to catch up to the striking island nation who was shooting all kinds of teasing and smug glimpses back at him.

He caught up with her finally, his large hand gripping her gently around her thin ankle as he reeled her towards himself.

They both surfaced, Cuba laughing as he held her snuggly in his arms. Spitting out the mouth piece, he murmured. "Gotcha."

She grinned, pushing aside her snorkel as well as she turned around in his arms. "You're a natural at this. France and Canada they're..."

"Ain't as good at this as we are?"

"Yeah, that about sums it up." Seychelles replied, thinking back to some of the hilarious incidents in which France, Canada or both of them had ended up making fools of themselves in the water. Over Cuba's shoulder, she caught sight of the two nations in question and a mischievous smirk blossomed on her face. "So, I was thinking..."

Cuba looked over his shoulder to where France and Canada were highly distracted in their boat.

"Even with that glass bottom they aren't going to see anything or...anyone coming."

He looked back to her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You ain't suggesting we go tip them over, are ya?"

She wiggled free from his arms and refitted her snorkel. "I'm not suggesting it, I'm doing it. They'll have plenty of time to stick their tongues down each other's throats later tonight."

And without another word, she dove under the surface. Not about to let her have all the fun, Cuba took a deep breath and followed her.

France and Canada were blissfully unaware that their floating make-out session was about to be rudely interrupted. In fact, Canada was in such a good mood that he wasn't even protesting the fact that France's hand had set aside the oar to grope him through his swim trunks. He was just about to turn around more, hoping to get some more friction when the boat they were in shook. Reluctantly pulling apart from France, Canada blinked down through askew spectacles at the sight below.

"Mon Dieu, Canada hold on!" France called out, gripping the other country around the waist before the boat wobbled again and tipped over sideways. The two plunged into the water, Canada holding his glasses on as he sputtered to the surface. France kept a hold on him, pushing his hair out of his face as he frowned at the others.

"You should see your face!" Seychelles said with a laugh, goggles pushed back on her forehead as she pointed at them.

France huffed, splashing water at her and catching her with her mouth still open. She sputtered the sea water out, her eyes narrowing. "You did _not_ just do that."

"I have no idea what you could mean, ma chérie."

With a determined glint in her eyes, she splashed right back. "France, you should know better than to start a splash war with me."

"Hey, eh!" Canada exclaimed, albeit rather quietly, as the water hit him as well. His glasses a bit crooked, he feebly splashed back.

Of course, it ended up hitting Cuba instead. "Oi!"

And so, without another word, the four nations started splashing back and forth at each other. Cuba and Seychelles had the advantage, both of them more accustomed to floating in the water for extended amounts of time. Also, France still held Canada up with one arm, limiting him to weak one-arm splashes. But they gave it their all, not about to let anyone else one-up them in this childish challenge.

It was quite some time later that they finally called it off, deciding that it was a tie since there really wasn't any way to discern a winner. All thoroughly drenched and laughing, the four swam back to the shore and toweled off. It had been a wonderful way to pass the afternoon.

* * *

Once back at their villa, Cuba had taken to relaxing with a cigar, leaning back in his chair out on the terrace and watching the sunset over the ocean. In the distance, he could see the lights of the nearby island starting to flicker across the water as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. Inside, Seychelles was getting changed out of her swimsuit and drying her hair.

As for France and Canada, France had insisted on making them dinner that evening and no one was going to protest _that_. After acquiring the ingredients he needed from one of the resort's restaurants, he disappeared into the kitchen. After a few moments, Canada got up and followed him in.

"What are you making, eh?"

France turned with a smile at Canada's question, "Grilled red snapper, caught fresh today, with rougaille sauce and creole rice. Oh and daube de banane plantan for dessert."

Canada smiled. "That sounds great, eh."

Turning back to the stove, the Frenchman started grating ginger into the pan. "Would you like to help me, mon chéri?"

Blinking Canada walked up next to him. "Help eh? Won't I just get in the way?"

With a flourish, France turned around and wrapped his arms around Canada's waist; pressing up against his back and leaning over his shoulder to keep an eye on the stove. Squirming a bit between France and the warm stove, Canada realized he really didn't have much of a choice but to scoot closer to France rather than burn himself.

"Just having you near will be all the help I will need, Canada."

He flushed at that, eyes drifting down to watch as France deftly added in one ingredient after another with practiced ease. Without even looking away, and with his lips ghosting against Canada's ear, France reached over and picked up a frying pan to start the snapper cooking.

"I hope I am not offending your other boyfriend by keeping you all to myself today."

Canada turned his head at that, inadvertently giving France a face full of blonde hair as he did so. "Eh? What do you mean?"

France just chuckled, pouring white wine into his sauce pan and allowing it to simmer. "But of course, I would also be more than open to him joining us."

Canada sighed. "France..."

"What? I have so much love to share and he is rather..._attractive_."

The North American nation blushed, thinking fondly of Cuba and well...France was right, he was rather attractive.

France began to season the sauce to taste and held up a spoon to Canada's lips. "Try it."

He obliged, tasting the red sauce and nodding his approval. "That's perfect, eh! You held back on the chili didn't you?"

"Ah, did I?" France asked with a smirk. He sat the spoon aside, forgoing that form of taste-test for another as he closed the minimal space between the two of them and kissed Canada full on the mouth. Pulling back, he winked. "Oh yes, I can taste that now. I figured you would rather I go a bit easy on the spicy stuff."

Canada blushed, his entire face heating up. "You remembered I don't like it too spicy, didn't you?"

Nodding France pressed a kiss to Canada's forehead. "Of course I remembered."

He smiled. "Thanks, eh."

France started the final preparations for the meal, pulling away from Canada to garnish each plate until it looked like a work of art all its own. Once each plate was finished, he turned back to Canada. "Shall we go share our hard work with our wonderful lovers or ravish each other here in the kitchen instead?"

Shaking his head at France's...Franceness, Canada replied. "Dinner first, please."

* * *

Cuba had to admit, he was rather enjoying himself. He'd had an amazing day, a wonderful meal for dinner, and he was currently capping it off with a mojito at that very moment.

Despite being apprehensive at first, Cuba found himself thinking quite fondly already of Seychelles and well, even France. The way the two bickered and apologized was, he had to admit, kind of endearing. And France did treat Canada quite well, something he found he was more pleased by than jealous of. Canada deserved to be spoiled once in awhile, after all.

Just about to call it a night, a quiet knock sounded on his door. "Come in?"

It swung open to Seychelles, who had changed into a silk nightgown that even Cuba had to admit, looked rather stunning on her. She smiled at him and held up a handful of colorful ribbons.

"I hope you're still up for our slumber party because I brought the ribbons for your hair."

Cuba chuckled, walking over to his bed and sitting down. He patted the mattress beside himself. "All right, Seychelles. Do your worst."

* * *

Her first conscious thought was that it was rather comfortable curled up in the space next to where her guest was still sleeping. They'd stayed up late into the night, telling stories of their islands and their boyfriends. Seychelles repressed a laugh as she noticed the rainbow of ribbons hanging from Cuba's loose dreadlocks. Oh yes, then there was that. It was rather cute how such a gruff looking guy could be such a softie once you got to know him.

Leaning over, she pressed a quick kiss to his forehead and clambered out of the large bed. It would be sunrise soon and she had to be ready.

Once Seychelles had showered and pulled on her white sundress adorned with little blue flowers; she padded into the adjacent bedroom. As she expected, France and Canada were both still sound asleep; the later of the two dozing with his head rested on France's bare chest. Seychelles sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over, kissing France on the lips until he started to stir.

"Bonjour," she murmured as his eyes flickered open.

France smiled. "Bonjour, ma chérie."

He shifted carefully, moving Canada's head to a pillow as he slid out from underneath him. Pecking a light kiss to Canada's forehead and smoothing down his mussed hair, France pulled the sheets up over him and stood to meet Seychelles.

"I am ready if you are, mademoiselle," he said holding out an arm. She linked hers through.

"Oui!"

They made it down to the beach just in time to see the orange hues peeking above the horizon. Seychelles plopped herself down into the sand, leaning back into the familiar hands on her shoulders.

France chuckled, reaching down to pull two long red ribbons free from Seychelles' hand. "Braid or pigtails today?"

She hummed a bit to herself in thought. "Braid."

Nimble fingers began threading through her loose hair, dividing it into parts and starting to braid it together, intertwining the second ribbon in with her hair.

After a few moments, Seychelles spoke up. "Did you have a good night?"

"It is always a good night when love is in the air," France replied, wrapping an arm around her waist. "But it would have much better had you two in the other room joined us."

She rolled her eyes. "France..."

"Ah Seychelles, I am wounded," he said, pulling back in mock innocence. "You say that as if my behavior is a bad thing!"

A small smirk quirked at her lips, and she turned around on her knees to face him. Placing a hand against his chest, Seychelles leaned in flush against him and whispered in his ear. "Non. I never said that it _always_ is."

And before France could even react, she had started kissing him; pushing him back onto the sand. The sunrise over the island was beautiful, but they were a little too preoccupied to notice it.

Up at the villa, Cuba was woken up by a familiar curl of hair tickling at his chest. Blearily blinking his eyes open, he glanced down to see Canada groggily crawling into bed with him.

"Hey, what's up?"

Canada nuzzled against him, his voice muffled against Cuba's chest. "Thought I'd come see you, eh. Nice ribbons."

"Ribbons?" He reached up to his hair and felt them there. "Oh...right. Speaking of, where's France and Seychelles?"

"Having sex on the beach," Canada mumbled, yanking the sheets up and yawning.

Cuba was about to ask if he meant the cocktail by that name or…oh never mind, he had a feeling he knew which one it was. Deciding that this was just how things went around here, he put his arm around Canada and dozed back off to sleep.

* * *

Once everyone was awake and dressed, France prepared them all breakfast before they set out to the Vallée de Mai Nature Reserve.

Canada and Seychelles, both familiar with the forest pathways, had linked arms and were skipping ahead towards the waterfall they could hear in the distance. Although there were several Coco de Mer palms in the valley, Canada insisted on finding one they could reach. The large nuts, which were native only to these islands and were only a tad smaller than a basketball, were often given to foreign diplomats and leaders. As such, Canada thought it would be a great gift for Cuba to take back home with him.

"Canada, are you sure about this?" Seychelles asked when they reached a tree that was a bit shorter than the rest.

"I'd really like to get it for him, eh. You don't mind right?"

"Of course not!" She gave him a hug, stepping back and slapping a hand to her bicep as he pumped her fist. "Just get me up there!"

Canada smiled, stooping down to let her climb up onto his shoulders. Once she got herself balanced, Seychelles frowned. "Canada?"

He blushed. Somehow, he'd ended up with her dress _over_ his head rather than wrapped around it. And trying to fix that with one free hand wasn't working so well for him. Canada sighed, and immediately regretted it when Seychelles shuddered at the puff of air on her bare legs. He had to find a way to get the dress resituated without dropping her, there had to be a way and…

"Canada?" She asked again, still not getting an answer.

"Oh sorry, eh!" He spluttered. "I really should get your dress fixed. I mean it's not like I can see your panties or anything, but it still must be really uncomfortable for you because it's kind of awkward for me and…and…"

"Canada?"

"Oh. Yes?"

Seychelles cleared her throat, then shyly asked, "Um…do you think my thighs are fat?"

"Eh?"

She squeezed them a bit around his head. "My thighs, silly. Are they fat?"

Unthinkingly, he looked over at the bare skin right next to his cheek and if possible, his blush deepened. "I don't think so, eh. I mean, you look great Seychelles! If anything, you're pretty light."

He couldn't see it, but Seychelles brightened at this, reaching down from her perch upon his shoulders to yank her skirt back. "O-Okay then, enough of that!"

Seychelles smiled down at Canada, and he smiled back up at her. Both of them were flushed pink.

"We were getting a nut right?" She asked, her cheeks rosy red.

Canada nodded. "O-Oh, right!"

And with that distraction out of the way, they went back to trying to reach up the tree for the large nuts it had.

Trailing behind on the forest path was France and Cuba. France had offered to lag behind with the visiting nation since this was his first visit to the palm forest, allowing Cuba the chance to stroll at a slower pace down the pathways and enjoy the view. Needless to say, France was enjoying another view entirely.

"Quite stunning, oui?"

"It's…" Cuba looked up as a parrot flew by, "It's very nice."

"Ah pardon the confusion. I was talking about _you_," he said, edging closer and casually putting his arm around Cuba's shoulders.

Cuba blanched. "W-What?"

France chuckled, trailing his hand from Cuba's shoulder to the nape of his neck. "Oh come now, please tell me that Canada has at least somewhat informed you that you are a striking figure to behold. All masculine angles and," he trailed a hand down Cuba's chin, "Stubble."

Not sure if he should be affronted or flattered or both, Cuba just swallowed hard. "A-Are you coming onto me?"

"I am just appreciating beauty where I see it, that is all," he replied, teasingly running his hand from Cuba's cheek down his neck to press against his chest. "Oh, and a very masculine chest too, I forgot to mention that."

"Uh..."

Leaning up against him, France whispered into Cuba's ear. "Shall we have a little fun now that we've caught up?"

Cuba's eyes widened as he heard the distinct voices of Canada and Seychelles calling out to them, their footsteps echoing on the pathway as they came closer.

"What are you..." Cuba's words were cut off with a kiss, France using his momentary shock at the lips on his own to plunge his tongue inside. Cuba made a rather undignified sound at the intrusion, but the Frenchman noted with triumph that after a few seconds the Cuban had started kissing back.

_Aha, victory at last_. France thought to himself, milking the moment for all it was worth, before pulling back. When they parted, Cuba wasn't sure who was probably blushing more- himself or possibly Canada.

France laughed, throwing his arm back around Cuba's shoulders as he muttered under his breath. "I believe we have turned our boyfriend on at the mere sight of us making out. We must be rather sexy, non?"

Stretching out a hand to Canada, France pulled his burning red face up against his chest. "Pardon for the unexpected there, Canada. I could not resist your Cuban lover any longer."

"France..." He whined, turning to the side to bury his face in Cuba's chest. "Stop embarrassing people!"

Seychelles walked up and deposited the large Coco de Mer nut in France's arms.

"Here, you can carry that," she said, giving him a smile that dared him to complain. France sighed, running his fingers over the rump-shaped nut as he shot Seychelles a seductive look.

Before she could protest, Cuba finally found his voice again. "France?"

The blonde nation turned to look at him. "Oui?"

"C-Can you at least warn me next time?" He gruffly mumbled, his eyes dropping to the forest floor.

France's eyes twinkled mischievously, and Canada looked up from Cuba's chest with a hopeful expression on his face.

"I see. You would like there to be a next time then?"

Cuba cleared his throat. "J-Just warn me, all right?"

France smiled, gently and reassuringly. He sat the nut down by his feet and reached his arm out to embrace Cuba and Canada, sticking his other arm out to usher Seychelles into the group hug.

"You are all magnifique!" He said, pressing a kiss to the top of Seychelles' head, a peck to Canada's cheek and a light kiss to Cuba's lips. "Shall we go back for dinner?"

Everyone voiced their approval of this idea, and gathering up the Coco de Mer nut that Cuba was taking home as a gift, they ventured back to the villa.

* * *

It was late evening and they were all relaxing on the sunset lit beach after their dinner had settled in their stomachs. Cuba had gone back up to the villa, saying he had something for everyone, only to be hit with another bout of nerves once he got there.

_Maybe this isn't enough..._ he mused to himself bitterly.

Frowning down at the four glasses he'd prepared, Cuba sighed. It seemed almost a feeble attempt in comparison to all the hospitality he'd received; Seychelles spending the night with him, the two staying up late sharing stories and laughing about their boyfriends and France cooking all their meals, putting all his effort into creating delicious dishes that suited everyone's taste. Well, and France did manage to get him to...open up a little, even if Cuba still wasn't quite sure what to make of _that_.

And most of all, Canada. He'd been so concerned the whole time, constantly checking to make sure Cuba wasn't feeling left out or coerced into something he didn't want.

All he had in return were mojitos. Damn good mojitos, if he did say so, but still. It paled in comparison.

Not wanting to worry his boyfriend and his...well yes, they were definitely his friends now, Cuba resigned himself to his poor excuse for repayment and headed back down to the beach.

Canada and Seychelles had been wading out in the water when he reached them, the two of them up to their waists in the surf.

"Come on you two, I've got mojitos for everyone!"

The two raced up the beach, joining him where he sat down the tray next to France on a large beach blanket. He handed out each drink, trying like France had, to make each one specifically for the person he was creating it for. Canada's had more mint, a little easy on the rum for Seychelles, and a lime on the side of France's glass.

The four of them sat on the beach blanket, sipping their drinks and watching as the sun continue its descent beneath the horizon. Finally, Canada put his glass back on the tray and sighed in contentment.

"That was great, Cuba."

"Oui, I must concur. It is very good," France added.

Seychelles took another sip of hers and smiled at him over the rim of the glass. "Thanks Cuba!"

They all laid back on the blanket then, watching as some stars started to peek through the darkening sky. Cuba started as he felt Canada's hand taking his own.

"Neh, Cuba?"

"Hmm?"

He felt Canada shift, but he didn't realize what the other nation was up to until he felt him curling up against his side. Without a word, Cuba turned his head to capture Canada's lips with his own.

Within seconds, hands were tangled into hair and the two rolled towards each other on the blanket so they could close the small space between them. Canada was still a bit wet from his dip in the ocean; rivulets of sea water running down his back and sand sticking to his damp skin. Cuba grinned into their deepened kiss.

That's when he felt the firm arms grip him from behind, a scratch of stubble against his shoulder and a husky voice in his ear. "Is this a satisfactory warning, Cuba?"

He pulled back from his kiss then, eyes glancing from France behind him to Canada in front of him. And now that he looked, Seychelles was holding Canada from behind, much like France was doing to him, and giving him a rather sultry gaze as well.

This was it. The moment of truth. The chance to try something radically new or politely back away. Cuba knew none of them would be offended if he said no, that all of them respected his decision either way. This was solely up to him.

So with a quick peck to Canada's lips and a deep breath he replied, "I hate to be a spoilsport but...can we at least do this in a bed?"

* * *

The first thought Cuba had upon waking up in a bed with three other people was that it had been a damn good idea to make everyone mojitos last night.

He felt relaxed and strangely comfortable, despite his apprehensions before now. Canada was snuggly tucked under his left arm, the North American peacefully sleeping with his head on Cuba's chest. Cuba wished he could reach down and smooth Canada's waylaid hair from his face, but he found that his right arm was a bit preoccupied under two people's heads. This being Seychelles, who was nuzzled up against his side with a pleased smile on her face. Somehow she'd managed to wrap most of the blankets around herself even though she was the smallest of all four of them. And also, behind her, was France; who was turned inward protectively around Seychelles with a smirk on his lips.

And despite how much he would have scoffed at the idea before now or sworn that he'd have to be pretty drunk to even consider it, Cuba felt rather content. He gently patted France on the back with his right hand and he leaned down to press a kiss to Seychelles's forehead. Turning to his other side, he maneuvered Canada a bit closer with his left arm and ghosted a light kiss on the sleeping country's lips.

With a satisfied smile, and a distant thought that he might have some free weekends in the future, Cuba let himself blissfully doze back off to sleep.

_Okay. So the French idea of relationships... well, I guess it ain't so bad after all._

_THE END  
_


End file.
